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Her eye met Miss Stanley’s understandingly, and she was if anything a trifle more affectionate in her greeting to Ann Veronica. I’ll kill you, Sheila, and I’ll kill her too. Her eyes were soft and blue, arched over by dark brows, and fringed by long silken lashes. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard.
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